Monday, July 12, 2021

On Dying

 Were I to die today

None would be worse off

A small unwanted blob

Wiped off with no thought

Leaves canvas ready to re-paint.

Lives I touched

Might let out a sigh or two

No storms will brew

For memory is fickle as fortune

And voids can't stay.

In another day

Life will come rushing in

A pleasant wind

To leave a new imprint.

 


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